


A Curve to Set Things Straight

by seawench



Category: Jeeves - Wodehouse
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 21:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seawench/pseuds/seawench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertie was amazed, not for the first time, at how little overall disruption the permanent addition of Florence Craye had made in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Curve to Set Things Straight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KannaOphelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/gifts).



Bertie was amazed, not for the first time, at how little overall disruption the permanent addition of Florence Craye had made in his life.  Certainly, there were girlish fripperies that occasionally escaped the boudoir, but the estimable Mrs. Peeble saw to those.   He did wonder at a woman with such a name reaching Mrs. Peeble's Himalayan heights of stolid organization, but ultimately chalked it up to the same level of vagary in the universe that allowed for the existence of sweetmeats (generally constructed from bread-like substances) and sweetbreads (invariably composed of meat).   She had come along with Florence and, if he closed his eyes for a few minutes, could be reasonably counted upon to make sure that the offending garments disappeared.  She was also a wizard, wizardess actually, with vodka and gin.  One could get used to that kind of domestic bliss.

The wedding too had been mostly free from inconvenience.  Jeeves had, in his usual fashion, arranged everything to the utmost, and even Aunt Agatha's disastrous last minute guest list could not ruffle that staunch old fellow.   Bertie needed only show up, go along with Florence's directions, and wear the appropriate garments - Jeeves had set them out the night before, naturally.   There had been the customary shenanigans, a requisite number of misbehaved children running about, and the usual relatives zozzled out of their minds, but unless he sat down to recall each situation carefully - rarely a good idea - Bertie found that he remembered very little from the day itself other than Florence's beaming face and the not at all unpleasant realization that he would be seeing it directed at him everyday for the foreseeable future.   Altogether, life was looking rather pleasant.

The day of amazement in question, Florence was seated at the window penning a letter to one of her innumerable acquaintances in the Bloomsbury set - they did an awful lot of writing back and forth to one another, but that was probably natural what with the book making and all - smiling in a way Bertie could identify as meaning, _My, won't she be jealous when she reads this! I really do wish the old dear well, but she was quite rude at Father and Agatha's garden party last week_.  It was one of the qualities that Bertie greatly admired in Florence, her ability to communicate such a concept through the merest brightening of the eyes and lifting of the lips, rather than the expostulating that seemed to be required from others of his female acquaintance.  It may indeed have been the reason he married her in the end. At the very least, it was in the top three.

There had been some doubt as to Florence's ever marrying anyone after Cheesewright and all the blasted nonsense about the arrest - men could make such ridiculous fools of themselves over girls, especially if they did not have Jeeves to set them to rights.  Aunt Agatha had been particularly, if not unexpectedly, cruel about the prospects of a girl who had "set her cap at two such blundering dunces," although she would never dare to mention it in her husband's presence.   Lord Worpleston had, in her words, resigned himself to the continued care and feeding of his literary daughter - literary, in this case becoming something less than a compliment as Aunt Agatha had finally decided that, "Good reviews did not lead to good sense."   This public chilling of her friendship with Aunt Agatha - still suspected of eating broken bottles and occasionally killing rats with just her teeth - did wonders for the lady's standing in Bertie's esteem, and he'd found himself revising his opinion of her even before the meeting that, what with one thing and another, had led to the current state of affairs.

Bertie had run into her several months after the Cheesewright debacle at one of Aunt Agatha's soirées.  This particular party had been given for the Hon. something or other who to the best of Bertie's knowledge had not done anything meriting social recognition besides, perhaps, marrying one of the more odious of Bertie's former fiancées.   Apparently he'd also written an award winning collection of poetry or something equally dreadful. Bertie had just escaped the woman in question when he'd come upon Florence hiding on the veranda in his usual spot, looking rather decorative and inviting and not at all like the terrifying form still scouting for him in the ballroom.  Florence had been in top form that evening and had given him a smile that seemed all at once to say, _Oh Bertie, I do wish you'd grow up_, and _This is a frightfully dull party; I'm so glad there is someone else to share in my misery_.

Later, Bertie had tried unsuccessfully to explain that smile to Jeeves, as well as others from the evening.   He'd lamented the insufficient time he'd had to ponder the meaning of her varied expressions, and had supposed that one could spend entire lifetimes pondering the things Florence could say with her eyebrows alone, or at least one lifetime if one gave it serious thought.  Jeeves had responded, "Very good, sir. Shall I arrange it?" Bertie had been keen on the idea but thought, and said, that he ought rather to take care of this one himself.

It was the only time in the history of Bertie and Jeeves' long acquaintance when those words were followed by a situation that did not immediately require Jeeves' help to set things to rights.  Jeeves seemed on the whole very pleased with Miss Florence Craye and the influence that she exerted.  Bertie suspected sometimes that Jeeves had foreseen this outcome all along, and would have made far less of a blunder of proposing, but there were things a chap had to do on his own.  He had tried to make his wishes understood over dinner a week later, but had floundered for an extensive bit before exclaiming, "Well, old girl, you don't think you'd find the idea of being married to me entirely unpleasant, do you?"  Florence had given him a new smile in response, one he could live with forever.  _Not at all, Bertie dear_.

There were details to arrange, of course, but Jeeves would see to that.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to write a plotty adventure, but that's not the story Bertie wanted to tell. As always, the characters won. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Title is from an old Phyllis Diller quote. "A smile is a curve that sets everything straight."


End file.
